I'm pretty sure Tuesdays are more exhausting than Mondays

It's true.  Mondays are a total suck point, I admit, but Tuesdays?  They're worse.  It's like, "Oh, hey...Monday's over and it wasn't too bad.  Let's see how much worse we can be today?"

Each week, I write a menu for the week on a calendar thingy and stick it on the fridge.  Very rarely do we stray from this menu, unless we're out and about and have to grab something really quickly.  I get so tired of answering the age-old question multiple times a day so now I just pointedly stare (and point because sometimes they ignore my stare) at the refrigerator.

This has worked so far this school year.  Until today, of course.

Thursday is usually our "Breakfast for Dinner" day.  It's almost the end of the week, and we tend to grab Chick Fil-A on Fridays because N has baseball practice until 7:00 and we're starving.  It's a good way to wrap up the school week...breakfast for dinner followed by CFA.  It works for us.  We're creatures of habit.  We also almost always have some sort of Mexican meal on Tuesdays; B prefers tacos, N prefers something he can inhale at an alarming rate.

I digress.  Tuesday's menu was tacos.  Thursday's menu was breakfast.  Last Thursday, I'd made pancakes and bacon for dinner, so this Thursday, I intended to make breakfast burritos.  I don't go into detail or anything...just list a general description.  I know.  My life is so fascinating and interesting.  So, when N approached B and convinced him to agree to switch Taco Tuesday and Breakfast Thursday, I agreed, although I was annoyed because it takes way longer to make breakfast than tacos and I was already exhausted from doing nothing but some homework all day long.  And by all day, I mean between the hours of 12:00 and 2:00 because I was very busy in the morning...taking a nap.

I was almost finished when I asked N to go get B from playing with his friends.  I said "The eggs are almost ready, so will you go get B for me, please?"  He nodded his head and I went back to my business.  Three seconds later, he stomped into the room yelling, "Wait!  I thought you were making breakfast!  Where are the pancakes?"  Um...yeah, so there are multiple types of "breakfast for dinner" combinations.  I had obviously made the wrong one.  And that's when my 12 year-old decided to pitch a toddler tantrum and refuse to eat.  Okay, fine with me.

I swear.  By 7:45, I was closing my eyes which is unfortunate because B and I were reading a book and it was my turn to read.  Whoops!  I sent the boys to bed earlier than normal because everyone was cranky, and now I fully intend to pass out in 5 minutes or less.  At 9:16.

Aubs